Any Day but today
by thedoc617
Summary: Doggett remembers when his son was taken. (Note: This was written before Empedocles)


Title: Any day but Today

Author: Doc

Key Words: Angst, Doggett past fic,

Category: S, A

Summary: Doggett remembers when his son was taken. (Note: I wrote this long before Empedocles aired, so I didn't know that much about Doggett's lost son)

Spoilers: This is not Happening

Dedication: As always, hiya Didi.

Disclaimer: Mulder belongs to Scully, Scully belongs to Mulder, and William belongs to Mulder and Scully. 

Today we had a case that reminded me of him. Scully is in the state now that I was when they found him. Not Mulder, Robbie. My son. He was my son and they took him away.   
     I remember when I held my son in my arms for the first time. So small and fragile, but so precious. He kept me up for hours of the night, but in the end, every second was worth it. 

I still remember the day when Ozzie, Susan's old dog died. That dog loved Robbie and protected him from anything and everything. I remember tucking Robbie in that night. "Daddy, when's Ozzie coming home?" What was I going to say to a boy that he would never hear his dog bark or wag his tail again? 

"Ozzie isn't coming home, Robbie." 

"Did he go away?" 

"Yes, he went to a good place. A place with dog biscuits and fire hydrants to his heart's desire, and all the toilet water he can drink." 

"He won't be hurting anymore will he? Will he be able to walk again?" 

"I think so. God will take care of him." I said, not thinking of anything better.   
"Will God take care of us when we're gone?"

"I hope so, Robbie."   
"Why do creatures go so fast when you didn't get to tell them all you had to say. Why does God do that? Why does he have to take the ones we love too fast?" He asked, and in the pale moonlight outside his bedroom window, I saw tears fall from his eyes. What could I say to the kid? He was so wise at the age of five. 

I still remember the last day, the day that he was gone. He wanted me to go to the batting cages with him that day. I was overloaded with a new case at the time. Susan was at work that day. He was really looking forward to a day with his dad. We worked out that I would work for an hour when he went and I would meet up with him. He agreed. He got his helmet, his bat, and his autographed mitt, and was about to go out the door when he turned to me.

"Bye Dad, I love you." He said as he hugged me. I was so engrossed with my paperwork I barely noticed.   
"Love you too." I murmured as he disapeared for the last time. 

I got my paperwork done and headed out to play ball. I drove to the cages and saw it was vacant and empty. I saw dead people who looked more alive than this place. I didn't worry, because I thought he turned around and went to a friend's house or something. I was about to get back into the car when something caught my eye. It was a bat, a helmet, and a glove. I picked up the glove and I winced at what it said. "Merry Christmas Robbie, Love your dad." Was printed inside the mitt. The embezzled ground looked as if there was a struggle. I called my son's name five or six times, adrenaline rushing and emotion soaring with each minute passing. I ran to my car and dialed 911. In a matter of hours the police and FBI were there. I asked my fellow colleagues what I could do and they said nothing. Finally one piped up; Mary the other deputy in my precinct said, "Just wait, John. All you can do now is wait." 

Susan came home to find crime scene tape all around the house and she panicked. She screamed at the cops who came and got me. It was heart wrenching to tell her that her baby boy of eight years old was missing. She yelled at me, tears streaming down her face when I told her. She yelled that beat her little fists into my chest. I pulled her into a tight hug and she surrendered. I hate to say it, but we were closest those three days then we've ever been, and ever will be. I'll never forget the call we got on the third day. All they had to say was "We found him" and I knew. 

I hung up rushing down to the police station, wanting to hug my little boy again and never let him go. I ran into the police station. Every single person stopped what they were doing and looked at me, pain and sorrow in their eyes. Agent Monica Reyes, a FBI agent, and good friend had tears in her eyes. She was the one that came up to me.

"John we found him." She said, looking into my eyes and I knew, I just knew right then and there. She squeezed my hand. "His body was removed from the river early this morning." She said as she squeezed harder. I looked at her and I did what anyone would do in this situation, I ran. I ran to the place by the bay. My special place to think. I went there often when doing a sad case. For the first time in 20 years I cried. I felt a hand on my shoulder and Agent Reyes sat down.   
"I called your wife, but I'll let you tell her the news. You need to identify the body when she gets here. And again, I'm so sorry John. If you ever need to talk, you know I'm here." She said as I looked into her eyes and they were like a reflection of my own. She was carrying grief, something that she hadn't told me. She patted my shoulder and got up. "Come on, its been a long day." She said as she lifted me up by the hand. Facing Susan was the worst. She was looking all happy and excited. She thought he was alive. I walked over to her glumly. I looked her straight in the eye and she knew, she just knew.   
"No, he's not dead. He just isn't. My baby is still alive," She screamed. 

A few hours later I mused up the courage to look at him, hoping and praying that they were wrong. I was afraid to learn the truth. I walked into the morgue. They had a blanket over him, up to his chest. I saw his face and realized that I would never tuck him in again, never play baseball with him again. Never again will I get to tell him that I love him and actually mean it this time. Never would I see him alive again. I walked out of the room. I was mad. Mad at myself, mad Robbie for not running, and I was mad at God for taking my little boy away from me. 

I still remember those days looking for those who did it. The determination in my mind overwhelmed me. I remember the day they called and told me they found the man who did it. I marched down to the station to find a bald man about 25 years old in a cell with his head in his hands. I ran in and yelled "you son of a bitch, you killed my son. I hope you rot in hell for what you did." And my fist met his jaw in anger. They literally had to pull him off of me. Susan witnessed the whole thing, and after the police fired me, our marriage crumbled. He got life, and he admitted to all of them. In all he killed 6 children in New York City. I hate seeing Scully like this. It brings back too many bad memories. I promised her that I'd find whoever did this, and I will, no matter how long it takes, I don't want her ending up like me. 


End file.
